


Wingless Swan (HIATUS)

by FrostAcademic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Beating, Details about Emma's body no one wanted, Dreams and memories, Emma has a potty mouth, Emma is depressed, Fantasies of sex, Masturbation in Shower, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Nurse knows more than she lets on, Remembering past sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostAcademic/pseuds/FrostAcademic
Summary: The days never seemed to end: put in the hospital for always saying the residents were fairy tale characters, Emma Swan is getting better. Putting up with near abusive conditions, and the verbal barbs of Nurse Ratched, she makes it day by day, but barely.Takes place three weeks before Henry finds her in episode 20, and occurs in a parallel time period.





	1. Snow

As always, they had a movie in the evening, always something PG from the large library of films kept in the glass nurse station behind the wire gate. It was never anything worth putting a lot of attention to; trying to keep the films positive, and fairly violence free, all they were allowed to show were sickeningly sweet 80's kids films, fantasy films, and Disney cartoons. Emma was sick of it all, and would've killed to see a good R rated gore fest. Just a few minutes of Aliens....hell, even fucking Rocky Horror... just something with swearing, and violence.

  
But you didn't make the rules in the nut bin, Emma thought sourly, as Nurse Ratched pulled out tonight's film, another Disney cartoon, the cover a garish, sickeningly sweet lip lock with the films title princess. "Tonight's movie is Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs," she announced sweetly, clearly enjoying this.

  
"Really?" Emma said, before she could stop herself. Ratched gave her a dirty look. "Problem, Miss Swan?" Her tone was icy enough to freeze a bud right on the vine.  
Emma sighed, slumping in her chair. "Everyone here's adult...can't we watch something good for once?" _Something without fucking singing dwarves...._

  
"All the films we show are wholesome, and offer traditional values," Ratched said, with a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Disney was a inspirational film maker....you should be happy to see his best works. They do inspire so."  
Which was just a nice way to say screw off, Emma thought, as Ratched popped the disc into the player, the auto play starting the happy-crappy music at once. 

  
Since they didn't allow you to leave during the film nights, Emma slouched in her chair, staring blankly at the screen, as Snow White hummed and sang to the birds in the courtyard of the castle. As the film moved on to the Evil Queen, speaking to her mirror, Emma blinked, feeling an odd, prickly feeling run up her spine, as a semi memory spilled into her mind.

_He's my son... not yours_

  
_Good day, Miss Swan_

  
_Emma_

  
She blinked, and rubbed her temple, a pain shooting through her skull, her vision going fuzzy. What the hell?  
Emma stared at the screen, Snow White waking up to her Prince's kiss; the whole film had passed, without Emma even noticing, the credits rolling in a chorus-filled orchestral blast. She hated listening to it, but Nurse Ratched left it on until the very end, the disc crapping back to the main menu again. Finally, the TV went dark, the over heads flashing once, twice; the sign that it was lights out time.

Nurse Claire, the younger of the two head nurses (jokingly called Big Nurse by more than a few of the patients), stood at the light switch, her face grim and drawn, as always.  
Emma got to her feet, stretching her back from being scrunched in the chair for so long. Her bed wasn't inviting, but it was soft enough, and seemed fairly good right now. The days took a lot out of her, as the stress of being a good little mindless slave was hard to keep going. You had to behave, or they threatened the shock treatments again, and Emma wasn't gunning for that to happen.

  
They were lead in a group to the long hall that branched off the day room, the doors to the patient rooms all open for now, but soon to be locked tight. None of the patients were actually that dangerous, with only a handful on suicide watch for previous attempts. Emma was in a different room from the norm, with an attached bathroom for privacy, only allowed to patients proven to not be a danger to themselves. It featured a crappy shower stall, curtain less, a toilet, and sink with auto shut off. It wasn't much, but Emma was just glad no nurse had to be present as she bathed, or used the toilet.

  
The lights flicked off right as Emma walked in, and the door gave a soft hiss, as the auto locks kicked in, sealing it. Pale moonlight trailed through the bars on the window, sending silver bars across the pale, drab carpet. Emma shuffled to bed, and slid into the sheets, which itched, but felt good on her skin, as the whole wing was kept chilly. The blanket kept her warmer, as she stared up at the cracks crisscrossing the ceilinge, willing sleep to come.  
After awhile, it did, and she dreamed of a princess in a glass coffin, and a dragon, stabbed with a sword.

 

 

 

 


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As more dreams plague Emma's nights, a meeting with an odd woman during the movie night seems to spark a memory...

The next day, Emma had her weekly painting class, where all the patients were encouraged to paint their dreams or fantasies.

Emma, as she had nearly every week, was painting a fantasy landscape, a castle of spires and black, shiny stone perched on a cliff, overlooking a frozen river. She'd dreamt of it the night before, dreaming a dragon who was really a woman was inside, guarding a globe of glass, something inside deathly important to her. It hadn't made any sense, but it was making a nice enough painting, despite Emma's lack of real skill. It was enough to get the details across, but it still looked like a twelve year old girl's art project.

  
"Very nice, Emma," Nurse Ratched was hovering over her shoulder, watching her paint strokes with a critical eye. "However...you could use some lessons...the castle is quite blocky...it doesn't look real."

She rubbed at the still wet paint, smudging the tower on the left.

  
Emma bristled. "Who asked you?" She snapped, before she could stop herself.

  
The shock kicked in a second after, as Ratched's lips pursed tighter than a coin purse. "I..I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Nurse."

She hated the groveling tone coming from her lips, but it was the only way to get back in Ratched's good graces. She couldn't risk her deciding Emma needing punishing. At best, it was something simple, like no desert (Which was only cheap cookies, or half sour pudding), and worst... solitary. For a week. A quiet room, without windows, and a solid, padded door, a mostly clean toilet, and a sink. A slot for food twice a day, and nothing else.

  
"You're forgiven, Emma...don't make it a habit." Ratched's tone spoke of horrors to come if Emma dared toe the line again. The usual day without desert would seem like heaven compared to whatever she'd dish up.

  
Defeated, Emma used a paint rag doused in thinner to rub out the tower, and fixed it the best she could. It still looked blocky, but at least it was smoother, the bricks less defined now.

With a sigh, Emma spent another hours erasing the castle entirely, redoing the painting as a okay enough, but fairly boring landscape of hills.

 

That night's movie was Frozen, a newer one that Ratched seemed eager to put on: the sick bitch seemed to be way too invested in these damn films, humming to the music numbers, and gasping at the slightest drama on screen. It made Emma want to throw up.

  
.Emma slouched in her chair, as the film started up, preparing herself for another long night.

  
"That's my sister, you know," a voice said at her elbow.

Emma looked at the thin woman sitting next to her, frowning at the film. "She doesn't sing, though...that's odd." She squinted at the screen, as Elsa belted out her award winning ballad, her animated lungs getting a good workout from the whole ordeal.

  
"Your...sister is Elsa..?" Emma said, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice. "She's just a movie character..you know...."

  
"That one is.." The woman said, fiddling with the red braid over her shoulder, like a nervous tic she had no control over, "Not my sister. They made her weird for that movie. I don't like it."

  
"Gotcha," Emma nodded, patting her leg in an attempt at being friendly. "So...you're Anna Sanderson?"

  
It was people like this that made Emma glad she was better; this woman was completely insane. She not only thought this film was real, but that the animated Elsa on screen was her sister. People like that were beyond help. Best you could do was lock them up, and hope they didn't escape somehow.

  
"R...right..." Anna nodded, sounding unsure of herself. "Sanderson...yeah."

  
Not a light on in that attic, Emma though sourly. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, wishing for a proper shampoo set in the dumpy, single stall bathroom she had to use. At least it wasn't a full on high school level shower room, but the hard water of the hospital was killer on her hair. A private bathroom meant little when showering made your hair look like straw after.

  
"....let it go, let it go," Anna sang, under her breath, making Emma stare. Anna was off in her own little world, eyes a bit foggy, as the movie went on with its florid tale of sisterly love, snow based magic annoyances, and a snow creature than only popped up for a few good scenes. The whole thing was annoyingly happy.

_"...there's something you don't see everyday," she said, aiming for levity. Hook let a smile only just cross his lips, as he drew his sword, aiming the point at the creature Elsa had called Marshmallow, a hulking creature made of snow and_

  
The lights flashed, everyone getting to their feet: the film, which had been barely half through when Emma had actually been paying some attention, was back on the menu, the song playing annoying jaunty. She'd spaced again, seeing things and people she didn't know. It scared her when she spaced, the images making her feel....sad, somehow. The man she'd been with, a man with one hand and in need of a shave, had made her feel happy, even though she'd never seen him before.

  
"Come on, Emma...wouldn't want to be locked in," Ratched chimed, flicking the lights with clear glee, shooting her a look that was pretty much "Move, bitch" without speaking. She was the only one left besides Emma; even Anna had fled from the room into whatever fantasyland she called her reality.

  
"I...I'm sorry," Emma said softly, getting to her feet. Ratched only offered a tight, humourless smile, that didn't come close to meeting her eyes.

 

_A coffin, standing in the trees, snowflakes drifting like ash from the skies, the birds quiet, the seven men looking away in sadness. The thud of hoofbeats slowing, a man running up to the coffin, out of breath, excitement and fear tangled in his eyes._  
_"You're too late," one of the men said, his tone full of hurt, as the rider bent, looking at the woman asleep in the coffin, hair black as ebony spread on a small pillow, ruby lips curved down in a slight frown that marred her delicate face, so used to smiles._  
_"Open it," the man demanded, fists clenching._  
_"I'm sorry, she's gone," a grumpy looking man snapped. "Let her rest in peace...leave it alone."_

 

Emma sat up with a gasp, her skin slicked with sweat: another dream...vivid, like a film scene. She knew the story: it was Snow White...but...different...real. A memory, not just a fairy tale she'd heard.

  
She lay back on the damp pillows, and looked at the moon outside, the light splintered by the bars on the safety glass. A cloud covered it, and the room was dark.

Eventually, she drifted back to sleep, and dreamt of men with only one hand, glinting hooks, and soft, bearded lips pressed to hers. She didn't remember anything of this in the morning, as she rose to shower before wake up call, Ratched joyfully bearing her daily pills in a plastic cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait on this one.  
> Observant readers will notice the chapters no longer cap at 3: this story could have 6 or 7 more chapters, as the plot expanded good deal in a rewrite.


End file.
